Chapter 1 #3
“Look, as much as I appreciate a lovely face and a familiar accent—if you are from Meyer, the answer is still nein and will always be nein. If you are from the press, everything is in the press release from the conference. If you are neither, I apologize, but I’m in a bit of a hurry.
” He turned to put his presentation and notes into his satchel while scanning the room for Francesca and her entourage.
“That ‘lovely face’ comment gets you points, but I’m a bit offended that you would think I’m from Meyer.” She circled around to stand across from him. “Do I look like one of their corporate goons?”
Daniel looked up. Her eyes seemed to have changed color a bit, close to the blue of one of the many patches on her jacket.
Her feathery hair was several different shades of blonde.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “No actually, you look like…” He considered it for a moment, thinking he might have seen her face before somewhere, but he needed to find Francesca and something to get rid of this headache.
“You look like you could use a drink,” she said with a frown.
“Drinking is what caused the problem in the first place,” he lied. “But thanks.”
“Whatever it was, it had a powerful kick. Sambuca? Grappa? Or way too much Tuscan wine? You were doing much better when you were giving your speech,” she said. “I’ll tell you what: you give me a story, and I’ll give you a hangover cure that you’ll pass down to your children and grandchildren.”
So, journalist after all. “Tempting, but no thanks.” He shoved his papers into his battered satchel. “Creative though. Usually, you guys only offer to buy me drinks. No one ever tried a hangover cure.”
“I can picture guys and gals offering to buy you drinks.”
He tried not to smile but failed. Granted, he did get hit on by both sexes, but no one had ever been quite so blatant about pointing that out.
She gave a satisfied smirk. “A-ha! I knew you had teeth in there somewhere.”
“Yes, and I bite.” He growled halfheartedly as he tugged off his tie and tossed it in his satchel. “Who do you write for, Ms. Noblett? I’ll be sure to let them know you are one of their more creative correspondents.” He picked up his satchel and headed down the aisle.
“Anyone who will buy my stories or read my blog, Dr. Woodruff. A lot of people are concerned about our environment are interested in what you have to say about Meyer and the bees.” She hefted her backpack and followed alongside. “And I do have a great hangover cure.”
“I’m sorry, but I’ve said all I’m going to say about Meyer right now.” He turned at the entrance to the meeting room. “It’s all in my research, so if you’ll excuse me.”
His phone rang. This time he pulled it out and checked the number—Grace. He answered it as he walked through the lobby.
“We are all fine here, Danny. The baby is fine. Nick is fine. Jamie is fine,” Grace said.
He’d made a call to his sister again this morning, far too early, but it had rolled to voicemail.
His brother-in-law, Nick, was making certain that Grace got her rest as the pregnancy advanced, so no more middle of the night phone calls from her loony brother who couldn’t remember his time zones.
A youthful voice piped up in the background. “The girls’re fine too, Dr. Daniel!”
“Like Jamie said, your bees are fine. Actually, they’re surprisingly healthy this spring.” His sister could usually chase away all his nightmares with a few short words. “But they miss you. We all do. When are you coming home?”
“Tomorrow, but it’s one of those all-day, two-stopover flights.
I’ll be late driving in from Knoxville,” he said.
“Sorry I worried you. I wanted to let you know that yesterday was a false alarm. I had the dream again last night, and this time it was pretty clear that it wasn’t about Lily.
” Grace and Nick’s daughter Lily was due in four months.
“Yes, I got that,” Grace said in her usual calm way. “So it was about some other baby?”
“I… I only know it wasn’t Lily.” Daniel saw that Mel was still trotting along behind him and lowered his voice. “It was nothing. Probably something I ate or—”
“Are you taking the prazosin?”
“I’m out. And it really didn’t work anyway. The side effects—”
“Yes, all right. What about my extract?”
“I’m out of that too.”
“And it didn’t work either, did it?”
He sighed. “Not really.”
“Daniel, you need to—”
“Don’t say it. I know. You’re probably right, I’m not—”
“Nick says get over it,” Grace said.
“Right. Tell my favorite Fed to shove it.”
“Ex-Fed.”
“Tell my favorite unemployed brother-in-law to shove it. Have you been out to Rock House yet?”
“It is still early here. Jamie was a bit overeager to see how their bees are doing and showed up before the sun rose. She’s making waffles as her penance.
” Grace laughed. “I’ll call you later, after we go out there.
I hope the news is positive.” Rock House was a neighboring apiary that had lost every single hive over the winter and was basically starting over.
“Sounds good. Ti voglio bene!”
“Me too, whatever that means! Bye.”
“Ciao.”
He rubbed at his temple. Two visions in such a short time…
“So, have you reconsidered? My priceless hangover remedy for a really quick interview?” By now he had reached the lobby and so had Mel.
Daniel looked down at her very sensible black flats—clearly not one of those women who tried to compensate for her height by tottering around on ridiculously high heels.
It also meant he couldn’t easily outrun her.
She was at least a foot shorter than him but had curves in all the right places.
He looked into those bright, unpredictable eyes.
“I’ve met you somewhere else, haven’t I?” he said. “Some other conference?”
“I think I would remember you,” she said.
He flinched at the forced seductive lilt to her voice.
She grimaced. “A bit much?”
Daniel laughed. “A bit.”
“Hangover remedy?” She held up one cupped hand. “Interview?” she said hopefully. “Per favore?”
Over her head, Daniel saw Francesca Sartori rounding up her group of conference attendees, herding them off to the taxis just outside the hotel entrance.
Florence, or Firenze as the natives called it, was only a half hour away by high-speed train.
The group had been planning to hit a few tourist spots as well before returning tonight.
He had their planned itinerary in his satchel.
“Sorry, maybe later. I need to catch someone.” Daniel stepped around her and headed toward the entrance.
Damn, why did he have to handle a pushy journalist on top of this?
He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. And what was this exactly?
Instead of dreams, he was having waking visions now?
And were they going to start showing him the fates of random strangers?
Was he going full-on Dead Zone? He glanced behind him and felt a slight twinge of disappointment that Mel had disappeared.
Then he heard Francesca’s cheerful voice yell, “Andiamo!” and looked toward the portico. They were already lined up to get into taxis.
He needed to see more. Without the details, he had no idea when this train wreck or whatever it was, would happen. Perhaps he would have more time to figure out a way to stop it from happening or delay it. Of course, he didn’t even know what it was.
He did know if he touched Francesca again, long enough to see what he needed to see, he would be a physical wreck. How could he distract her long enough…
One honeybee, then another, buzzed by him. Daniel looked around the portico. He spotted the huge urns overflowing with blooms surrounding the entrance. Most of them were showy hybrids, offering little to a bee in search of food, but there were still some hopeful workers buzzing about.
Daniel knew he had a bit of a reputation for turning any encounter with his beloved bees into a teaching opportunity and, frankly, for being just a tad eccentric. He strode toward Francesca.